


you're the truth i can't explain

by takesmeunder



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographer, Alternate Universe- Rock Star, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 01:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4202733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takesmeunder/pseuds/takesmeunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry gets hired to be Niall Horan's celebrity photographer, he's expecting a learning experience and a chance to see the world. Determined to keep his business and personal lives separate, Harry tries desperately to keep things professional. The last thing he's expecting is to fall for a rockstar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interview and Album Cover

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I just want to say that this is my first 'big' slow-build piece. All my works previously have been under 10k or posted in pieces. I am incredibly proud but also incredibly anxious because I've always found that my 'slow-build' writing skills are not ideal. Any feedback you give will be greatly appreciated.
> 
> Big shout out to my beta [siempreniall](http://siempreniall.tumblr.com) who is always incredible and thoughtful with her editing and feedback.
> 
> Huge thanks to [sparksofgold](http://sparksofgold.tumblr.com) for making a beautiful album cover and track list. Also a big thanks for providing me with feedback and being my cheerleader throughout the writing process.
> 
> And lastly to [narrylime](http://narrylime.tumblr.com), who gave me the original prompt all those months ago and patiently waited for the finished product.
> 
> This fic was at 500 words 10 days ago. Some things happened in my life and I need a world to escape into, so RSNPH (as it was so dubbed, rockstar!niall/photographer!Harry) became my getaway. Now I give it to you in hopes that it lets you escape from reality, even if just for a brief time. xx
> 
> ps: for the sake of this fic and photography purposes, we're going to pretend that the roof of MSG is retractable. Who doesn't love some good fireworks?

Harry’s never really liked the smell of the city. Cars, buildings and the gutter coming together to make it smell like a dust bin. He’d been told that the job wouldn’t actually be in London, spread out across the country with the possibility of a North American tour if things go well. Harry’s always wanted to see the world. Not only would this job look good on a CV  but it would also scratch Harry’s itch to explore.

When Harry gets to the building he nearly strains his neck trying to look up at the top. It’s one of those fancy looking ones, mostly windows everywhere with some brick to make it look at least somewhat stable.

Harry hoists the strap of his backpack a little higher on his shoulder and takes a deep breath. It’s not like this interview could be the beginning of his career or anything, nothing like that at all. He keeps repeating that in his head as he pushes open the massive doors with the gold handles, through the metal detector and up to the front desk.

“H-Hello,” Harry stutters, wincing internally. “Um, I’m here to see Mr. Payne?”

The girl with bleach blonde hair raises a brow at him, and Harry runs a hand through his curls. “What’s your name?”

“Styles. Harry Styles,” he replies, fingers digging into the strap of his bag. “I’m a bit early, he said 3pm and it’s only 2:45.”

The girl turns and dials the phone, says something Harry can’t catch before she hangs up. “Liam says to go on up. 25th floor, Unit 3. Just go in, don’t knock,” she rattles off, as if it’s something she’s said a million times before. “Oh, and good luck!”

“Thanks,” Harry croaks, licks his lips to wet them as he heads towards the lift.

It’s a fairly quick trip despite being 25 floors up, Harry barely having time to adjust his hair before the doors are dinging open. His hands are starting to shake as he wanders down the hall to Unit 3, and he has to take a deep breath before he pulls open the door.

“Ah, Harry. I’ve been expecting you.”

Harry jumps at the sound of a voice coming from his left. He turns to find a man in a nice suit starting to stand up. “I’m Liam Payne. You can call me Liam.”

“I’m Harry. But you already know that,” Harry says, extending his hand for Liam to shake before sitting down in the seat Liam has gestured to.

The office is quite big, the desk a nice mahogany while the spray painted artwork around the room makes it seem less intimidating.

Liam unbuttons his blazer as he sits down, pen cap between his teeth. “I see you brought your portfolio,” he says, twisting back and forth in his chair. “There’ll be no need for that. You have the job.”

Harry’s eyes widen and his heart attempts to jump out of his chest. “What?”

“This artist is fairly big,” Liam says. “Naturally we had to check out any applicants who wanted to work with him. You passed our background check. Never even bought the album, huh?”

Harry feels his cheeks heat and he ducks his head down. “Well, his sound isn’t really my cup of tea,” he says honestly. “He’s a great artist though, all my mates love him.”

“That’s one of the reasons we decided you would be a good fit,” Liam says. “We won’t have to worry about you trying to sneak in fans to photo shoots and the like. It will be a welcome change to the last photographer.”

Niall Horan’s well known around Ireland and the UK, got his big break on the X Factor right after secondary  school. He did the bubblegum pop theme they’d wanted him to do for two years, but he wanted to move on to something more mature. His next album isn’t out yet; Harry’s curious to hear it.

“So, your first job will be to photograph Niall for his upcoming album. It’s not going to be your average shoot, it never is when Niall’s involved. It’s going to be a bit on the mature side, so probably prepare yourself accordingly, okay?” Liam flips through a calendar on his desk, scribbles something in it before glancing up at Harry. “Niall’s seen your work. He was quite adamant about you. I think you’ll get along nicely.”

Harry clutches his bag a little tighter when Liam slides over a schedule. “It’ll be quite busy for the next few months. Tickets for his first North American tour went on sale last month. He has a press tour, interviews, book signings and the like. If you do well, you’ll be asked to come along to the actual tour as well. Think you can handle this?”

“Of course,” Harry says, eyes darting over the paper in his hand. “The shoot is on Friday then?”

Liam nods. “It says 9 but honestly Niall is not a morning person so it’ll be okay if you’re a bit late. Don’t worry if you get stuck in traffic or grab a cuppa before you get to the location.”

Harry bites at his bottom lip. “I commute,” he says slowly, flipping the schedule closed. “I’ll need time to set up and stuff, best not be late.”

“I think you’re gonna do just fine here,” Liam says, standing up and reaching his hand across the table. “I won’t be at the shoot on Friday, my business partner may appear at some point. His name’s Louis.”

Harry nods and exhales, shakes his hand. “I’ve seen the kind of work you two do together. You’re an awesome team. Songwriting credits under both of you are quite amazing.”

Liam ducks his head under the praise, and Harry can’t hold back a smile. “Thank you, Harry. That will be all. Perrie will see you out.”

“Thanks again,” Harry says as he stands. “Truly. It’s an honor to work for this company.”

Liam’s writing something in a binder on his desk, but Harry can see the smile on his face before he turns to leave.

Harry waits until he’s alone in the lift  before he does a victory dance. He’s just in the middle of a pirouette when the lift comes to a stop and the doors ding open. Harry abruptly drops his arms, backing himself into the corner with his bag covering his face. He lowers it slowly, startling a little when he realizes it’s none other than Niall Horan smirking at him.

“Nice moves,” Niall says, eyes skirting down Harry’s body for a moment before returning to his face.

Harry swallows the urge to disappear into the floor. “Cheers.”

“Hold on,” Niall tugs his security back from getting off the lift and the doors close with a ding. “You’re my new photographer right? You had your meeting with Liam today.”

“I,” Harry’s taken off guard by Niall’s forwardness but steels himself. “I did. It went well. I’ll be photographing you on Friday.”

Niall nods. “That’s good. Great, actually. I’ll see you then. Have a safe trip home, Harry.”

Harry waves Niall off, takes a deep breath when the door closes and allows himself to slip to the elevator floor for the remaining 23 stories.

It’s a bit surreal the next time he sees Nick, sitting across from him in the early hours of the morning as he gets ready to leave for the radio show he’s on. When Harry relays everything that’s happened to him over the past week, the last thing he’s expecting is for Nick to burst into laughter.

“Niall Horan, famous pop star, caught you dancing in an elevator over the fact that you got a job being his photographer,” Nick says, barely suppressing a snort as he starts to laugh. “Only you, Harold.”

Harry pouts, chucks a pillow across the room. “Shut up,” he groans, using the other pillow to cover his face. “I have to leave in like 20 minutes and you’re not making me feel any better about the fact that I embarrassed myself in front of my new boss before I even had my first day.”

Nick laughs again, tugging on his boots. “You’ll do just fine. You have talent, Niall wanted you, etcetera.”

“Lovely pep talk, Grimmy. Truly,” Harry tosses the other pillow across the room. “You always know just what to say to make me feel better.”

“Must be going,” Nick says, cheeky grin on his face. “Good luck today!”

Harry scrubs a hand through his hair. “Thanks. See you tonight.” He waits for the front door to close before he gets to his feet, gaze drifting to Niall’s album lying unopened on the coffee table. Harry had meant to have a listen before the shoot, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’s going into this shoot completely blind except for the fact that he now knows how gorgeous Niall looks in person.

He grabs his bag and camera, knowing they’ll have all the other equipment he needs at the location. The idea of carrying it all on the tube is extremely unappealing. He’d get a car but the idea of driving in London traffic is more horrifying than the tube.

By the time he gets on location, it’s been raining for twenty minutes and Harry’s never been more thankful his camera bag is waterproof. His feet squeak on the fancy looking flooring and his hair has fallen out of a quiff and is now plastered to his forehead in a very non-sexy way. He looks up at the ceiling and mouths ‘why’ four times before he makes his way to the front desk.

“Sorry sir, this is a private shoot. No media allowed.”

Christ, he must look worse than he thought. “No,” Harry says, clearing his throat. “I’m Harry Styles, the photographer.”

The man peers at him, and Harry shifts on the spot.

“Can I see a piece of ID please?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry moves his camera bag to the other side so he can get at his wallet. It’s a pain to get out, his skinny jeans now molded to his body from the rain. It takes a few minutes and he can feel the receptionist eyeing him with a judgemental gaze before he manages to retrieve it. “Sorry,” he says, handing over his license.

Just then a man appears from behind a closed door and grins when he sees Harry. “Ben, are you harassing this fine young lad?”

“No, Louis. Just, wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be here,” Ben says, handing Harry back his license. “I mean, look at him.”

Harry opens his mouth to defend himself but he snaps it shut when Louis slings an arm around his shoulders and tugs him towards the door marked PRIVATE in big bold red letters.

“S’alright, ignore Ben,” Louis says, pushing open the door. “We’ve had issues before of fans trying to sneak into shoots and the like. He’s less a receptionist and more interference. Security, but not quite. Understand?”

Harry doesn’t, but he nods anyway. “Yeah. Niall’s a wanted man.”

Louis smirks, tugs Harry in a bit closer. “I’m sure he is.”

“No!” Harry says immediately. “I didn’t mean. I don’t. I mean, he’s very good looking. He’s just. You know. My boss.”

“Was just messing with you, young Harry,” Louis says, still grinning. “Liam told me you didn’t even buy his last albums. Not much of a fan, are you?”

Harry frowns. “I wouldn’t say I’m not a fan. His sound just isn’t something that does it for me. He seems like a nice lad, though,” he says, even though Louis doesn’t appear to be listening.

Louis leads him to the room where the shoot will be happening. It’s stocked with a bed, a couch and a bar stool. A quick glance to the corner of the room shows all the equipment Harry will need. “This is where you’ll be photographing the merchandise. We’d like to keep it inside if possible, but there is an abandoned pool in the back if you think that would help with your shots.”

Harry grabs one of the tripods from the side of the room and angles it towards the couch. “It depends on the type of mood you’re aiming for with this album. I didn’t buy the last ones, but I saw the covers. I’m not sure what his sound he’s going for this time around, but if the rumors are true, I’m assuming he wants a more mature look?”

Louis smirks again, and it makes Harry shift uncomfortably. “Well, I’ll let Horan explain what he’s going for. I think he’s in wardrobe down the hall at the moment. Not that he needs it.”

“What?” Harry exhales, but when he turns Louis’ no longer leaning against the doorframe. He turns back to his camera, positioning it on the tripod and adjusting his brightness levels. He’s so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t hear the door opening, or someone joining him.

Harry nearly jumps out of his skin when there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, and he nearly knocks the camera off its pedestal when he turns to see where the noise came from. He freezes when his gaze settles on Niall, clad only in a pair of green boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination.

“Uh,” Harry says, and he can feel his cheeks turning pink as he focuses on the floor instead. “You uh. Louis said you were in wardrobe?”

“This is wardrobe,” Niall says. “Where do you want me?”

Harry closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths and then turns to look at Niall. “Over on the bed. The couch. Sorry, the couch.”

“Okay, Mr. Titanic,” Niall cackles, making his way to the couch and flopping down onto it. “So, what’s the scene we’re setting here?”

Harry looks down into his camera, snaps a few shots as Niall gets himself settled. “Aren’t you supposed to be telling me that?”

Niall shrugs, leaning back against the armrest, hands coming together about his head. “I’ve seen your portfolio. Seem to know what you’re doing.”

Harry blushes, picks up the camera so he can get closer. “Maybe so,” he says, moving gracefully to his knees and cheering internally when he doesn’t fall over. “But this is your album. You’ve clearly got a mature vibe in mind. Aren’t you worried about the parents of the young girls who might not buy the album if you’re only wearing boxer briefs on the cover?”

Niall laughs loudly, his whole body curving in on itself as his eyes crinkle up in the corners. Harry snaps a few quick shots, pulling back to look at them. There’s a thin strip of sunlight coming into the room through one of the windows, and it’s bathing the piece of Niall’s skin it touches in a lovely yellow-orange.

“You’re quite opinionated,” Niall says, and Harry brings the camera back up to his face as Niall climbs to his knees. “For it being your first day.”

Harry doesn’t answer, sliding his knees across the hardwood floor to get at Niall from a lower angle. “Can you look mysteriously into the distance for me?”

“Jesus Christ,” Niall laughs again but does as he’s told, tilting his chin up and squinting slightly at a spot somewhere on the wall.

Harry cracks up before he can stop it, getting off a few shots before he bursts into laughter. “Is that your mysterious face? Honestly?”

“Hey,” Niall says, staring down at Harry with an offended look on his face. “I’ve got a mate, Zayn. One of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen in me life. Every time he looks at you, I swear that’s what he looks like. Thought it might work.”

Harry manages to stop laughing long enough to realize that with Niall’s new position his head is nearly equal with Niall’s bottom half. He slides backwards and then climbs to his feet. When he looks up Niall’s now staring at him with an amused expression on his face.

“Everything alright?” Niall asks, glint in his eyes.

“Yes, of course. Everything’s fine,” Harry says quickly placing his camera back on the tripod. “Outfit change, I think. I’m going to be honest and say while this is a good look for you, I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you want on an album cover. Sorry, mate.”

Niall nods, climbing off the couch with a grin on his face. “But you do think this is a good look for me?”

Harry stares up at the ceiling. “If you’re fishing for compliments Mr. Horan, I’m sure you could post a picture to Twitter and your fans will gladly assist.”

Niall’s still grinning as he exits the room. Harry fiddles about with the backdrop and the lighting, making it look more natural as opposed to forced. When Niall comes back he’s got on a simple grey jumper with a white undershirt beneath it. His khaki pants are loose and his hair is swooping to the right. He looks comfortable, relaxed. He looks good.

“Much better,” Harry says, taking a few pictures as Niall walks towards the window ledge, sitting down and leaning back on his hands. “Do you actually play that thing or is it just there for aesthetic purposes?”

“Hey now,” Niall says, reaching for the acoustic guitar. “I’ll have you know I happen to be a very decent guitar player.”

Harry hides behind his camera, flash going off as Niall begins to strum. “Just decent then? Play me something that’s not Wonderwall.”

Niall plays a few strings, tunes the guitar and then strums again. “Living outta cases, packing up and taking off, made a lot of changes, but not forgetting who I was,” he sings, low and focused as he strums along.

Harry snaps a few shots while Niall sings, breath catching in his throat when he pulls back to look at the image. Niall’s looking down at the guitar but Harry caught him in the midst of taking a breath so his mouth is closed. That one line of natural sunlight is cutting across the length of his body, illuminating the hand on the strings. He looks peaceful, at ease and most importantly it’s the mature look Niall was going for. Harry’s got his shot.

“We’re done,” Harry says, a little breathlessly.

Niall glances up, the sound of the guitar cutting off making the silence even louder. “We just started?” he questions, looking at Harry curiously.

“I got the shot,” Harry says, holding up his camera like a prize. “We’re done. We’ve got your album cover.”

“Can I have a look?” Niall asks, removing the guitar strap from around his neck. “You know, seeing as it is my cover.”

Harry rolls his eyes and holds his camera out. “C’mon then, have a look. Tell me if I’m wrong.”

Niall leans the guitar against the couch, straightens out his shirt as he walks across the room. He stands so close that his shoulder is pressed into Harry’s, and Harry can feel the heat of through his shirt. He coughs, clears his throat and holds the camera up so Niall can see.

“Whoa,” Niall says, fingers brushing over the screen. “That’s like, perfect. Exactly what we were lookin’ for. What I was lookin’ for.”

Harry preens a little, can’t help it when someone compliments his work. “Told you. I’ve got an eye for these things.”

Niall turns his head at the same time Harry does, and it suddenly feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room when their eyes meet. Niall’s gaze drifts to Harry’s lips and then back up again, and Harry’s hands are curled tight around his camera. He holds his breath, waiting for anything and then Niall takes a step to the side and pats Harry on the back. “Indeed you did,” he says, licking his lips and Harry can’t help but follow the movement with his eyes before internally demanding himself to look back up into Niall’s eyes. “Louis will be thrilled. He thought we’d be here all day.”

Harry coughs into his hand, diverting his eyes back down to his camera. “I’m pretty good at getting the shot,” he says, grabbing his camera bag. “S’long as my subject works with me.”

“Glad I could make your job easier,” Niall says.

Harry nods as he detaches his lens, packs it in the bag before placing the camera inside. “Helps when they co-operate.” The silence stretches for a little too long after that, and when Harry looks up Niall’s staring at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Niall doesn’t hesitate in his response. “That bit I sang for you? It’s off the new album, yeah? So if you could not tell anyone that’d be really great. Don’t want Liam and Louis gettin’ mad about it or anything.”

Harry nods. “Of course. I really liked it. Like, I haven’t heard your other stuff, but. That was really nice. The guitar and your voice.”

Niall ducks his head and Harry can see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “Thanks. That means a lot. I mean, my team said it was good but it’s nice to hear it from someone else. I’m pretty nervous about the whole album.”

“What’s the song called?” Harry asks, zipping his camera bag closed and snapping it shut.

“Don’t Forget Where You Belong,” Niall says. “Probably shouldn’t tell anyone I told you that either.”

Harry smiles, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me. What’s it about?”

“Keeping yourself grounded despite never being home,” Niall says, and it sounds a little sad. “I’ve had the same tour family for the past three years. Touring around the UK and Ireland. It was sort of written about them and how we’re all in this together, you know? None of us are alone because we’re all together.”

Harry slides his hand down the edge of the strap and wraps his finger around it. “That’s really beautiful, Niall. I’m sure your fans are gonna love it.”

Niall blinks, seemingly to bring himself out of whatever trance he was in. “I hope so. It’s the first one I’ve written most of the songs on, you know? It’ll be nice to get my own words and thoughts out there.”

“Well, I better get these shots fixed up and sent over to Liam,” Harry says, ever mindful of the time. “I wouldn’t worry too much about your album Niall. I’m sure it’s great.”

“Me and the lads are going out for some drinks tonight, if you wanted to come,” Niall says just as Harry goes to leave. “Celebrate the album and the tour dropping in the next few weeks. You could meet the guys who helped me the past few years.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and prays to every deity in existence. “That sounds really nice, Niall. It does. But I’ve got a lot of work to do if they want these shots by Monday.”

“Liam and Louis will be there,” Niall says. “I’m sure they’d understand. Plus, it’s important for you to mingle with the crew right? Especially if you’ll be coming on the tour with us.”

“I would really love to, but you’re not my only client right now. There’s a wedding I shot last weekend and they need their wedding photos next week,” Harry lies. “Maybe I’ll catch you next time?”

Niall nods, looking a bit crestfallen. “I’ll let the lads know how easy you were to work with. Help you out a bit, yeah?”

“Thank you,” Harry says honestly. “I think we had a pretty good time. It helps that you’re easy on the eyes.”

“Could say the same about you,” Niall bounces back, and Harry knows his ears are turning red. He doesn’t even know if Niall’s hitting on him or if he’s just a genuinely nice person. “You’re quite nice to look at.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, tugs a bit at the strands to ground himself. “Thank you.”

It’s just then that Louis reappears, looking between the two of them with the same smirk that he left with. “Everything alright here? Harry, are you leaving already?”

“We got it,” Niall says, quickly coming to Harry’s defense. “The album cover. Harry got it.”

Louis seems surprised. “Already? It’s only been a couple hours. Niall, are you sure?”

Harry bites at his bottom lip, looking over at Niall with a hopeful expression. They already agreed it was the shot they needed, but this is something big. It wouldn’t hurt Harry’s feelings if Niall decided he wanted a few more shots, but it would be tough for Harry to let go of the original one they chose.

“Positive,” Niall says firmly, and Harry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “He’s good, Lou. Honestly, you’ll see it when he sends it to you. It’s perfect.”

Harry pushes his hair out of his face. “I know you’ll like it as much as we do,” he says, confident now. “There’s a reason Niall chose me, and there’s a reason you approved it. You know what I can do. I promise you, we’ve got the album cover and it fits the sound Niall’s going for.”

Louis holds his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I believe you, no need to chop my head off lads,” he says. “Were you joining us for pints this evening Harry?”

Harry flits his gaze between Louis and Niall. “I uh, Niall invited me but I’ve got something for another client that I need to wrap up before next week. Thanks for asking me along though, maybe next time?”

Louis glances over at Niall who is now finding something in the corner of the room very interesting. “Alright then. Suppose you’ll have plenty of time to come out with us once the tour starts, yeah?”

Harry smiles, reaching out to shake Louis’ hand. “Of course. I’ll see you next week for the start of the press tour, right?”

“It’ll either be me or Liam,” Louis says, shaking Harry’s hand briefly before letting go. “Zayn might tag along with Liam if it’s him. Did Liam explain how we’re angling the press tour?”

“Not really,” Harry says, shouldering his bag.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Of course he didn’t. That’s Payno for you. Basically we’re going heavy on the social media aspect of things. Niall’s got his own personal twitter but usually we take it over when he’s being interviewed or getting ready or on stage. You’ll be downgrading your fancy machine to an iPhone with an HD camera during the press tour at least. Straight from the phone to the social media accounts.”

Harry nods, tucking the information away in his mind. “Of course. An iPhone for the press tour, fancy machine for the actual tour. I got it, should be pretty simple,” he pauses to clear his throat. “Anything else I need to know?”

“You’ll need to sign a nondisclosure agreement,” Louis says finally.

“Lou, is that really necessary?” Niall asks, an edge to his tone that Harry hasn’t heard yet.

“Of course it’s necessary, Niall,” Louis snaps right back. “He’ll be having access to music, to your personal life, and your social media accounts. Everyone who works for you has signed one. Don’t start this BS now.”

Harry clears his throat to interrupt because it looks like Niall’s about to start yelling. “It’s honestly fine, Niall. I’ve got nothing against signing the NDA. If this is going to be my career, then I better get used to it, right?”

“Harry’s got it,” Louis says cheerfully, clapping Harry on the back. “Well, we best be off then, Niall. Got another meeting downtown, and I know how you love to sleep through those.”

“Fuck off,” Niall says, but he’s smiling. “Let me get changed back into my street clothes then.”

“What the fuck is wrong with what you’re wearing?” Louis demands. “Surely that’s fine to wear outside?”

Harry laughs a little, tugs his bag up his shoulder. “I’ll see you lot next week, okay? Have a good night. Enjoy your meeting, Niall.”

‘You’re funny,” Niall says as Harry turns his back. “Got a sense of humor this one,” he continues, presumably talking to Louis.

Harry throws a hand up to wave goodbye as he walks away, only taking a breath once he’s on the other side of the door.

It takes him twice as long to get home as it did to get to the location because it turns out they finished at lunch. When he finally turns the key into the lock of his flat and pushes the door open, it’s only the thought of how expensive his camera is that prevents him from dropping it to the floor and then crashing on the couch.

“Honey, I’m home!” Harry calls out, shouldering off his bag and placing it on his computer desk.

Nick appears from the kitchen, frown on his face. “I really wish you wouldn’t say that,” he says, leaning against the wall. “Makes me feel like I ought to get a boyfriend or something instead of lazing about here with you.”

“Last time I checked we both have jobs,” Harry retorts, collapsing face first into the sofa.

“Speaking of that,” Nick says, and Harry doesn’t even need to look to know that he’s got a gleeful smile on his face. “How’d your shoot with the pop star go?”

Harry groans into the cushion. “He’s so fit, Nick. He walked out in a bloody pair of briefs for the first part of the shoot.”

Nick cackles. “Like, just a pair of tiny little boxer briefs? That’s mad. What color were they?”

“Not that it matters, but they were green,” Harry sighs. “They were form fitting, could literally see everything.”

“Of course they were green,” Nick says, giggling again. “Little Irish fellow can’t help himself.”

Harry turns his head so his cheek is pressed to the cushion. “I made him change.”

“You did what?” Nick squawks. “You had a nearly naked, gorgeous pop star in front of your camera and you made him go change?”

Harry flips over onto his back and stares at the ceiling. “For some reason at first maturity to him meant less clothes? I don’t know, I didn’t really think about it very much. But the shot we ended up with afterwards was fantastic. He really loved it. So did I. We got it in the first two hours. Even his management was shocked when they found me already packed up.”

Nick makes a noise so Harry knows he’s still listening. The thing that Harry’s always loved about Nick is that he knows when Harry still has more to say, and he actually listens. “He asked me out for drinks, at the end of the shoot.”

“What?” Nick’s voice goes up a few octaves. “Hold on, Niall Horan asked you out?”

“No,” Harry says quickly. “At least I don’t think so. It’s a crew night out. To celebrate getting the album cover and the tour starting in a few weeks. He wanted me to come meet them.”

Harry squints in Nick’s direction to find him staring curiously. “Did something happen that you’re not telling me?”

“There was a moment I thought he would kiss me,” Harry admits. “But I probably misjudged the situation, you know? I’m great at that. I don’t even know if he swings my way.”

“Christ, Harry,” Nick says. “You really don’t read the gossip mags, or listen to my show, do you?”

“Well, to be honest, I could probably just do one of those and get the same content,” Harry teases, and gets a pillow chucked at him for his trouble. “You know I don’t. That’s not stuff that interests me.”

Nick sighs. “Well, it should start interesting you. Niall’s never said, one way or the other, what he labels himself as. But rumors are that he swings both ways. You never know, he could be down for some Styles lovin’.”

“Shut up,” Harry says. “I don’t mix business with pleasure. It makes things messy. I prefer to keep them separate.”

“Right, okay,” Nick says slowly. “So, if this press tour goes well, you’ll be going on tour with him to North America, then?”

“Yes,” Harry answers, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.

Nick hums. “Okay. So. You’re going to be in close quarters with a man you find extremely attractive and intellectually interesting for over six months, photographing his nearly every move. And you’re going to sit there and tell me you don’t mix business with pleasure? Whatever you say mate.”

“I dooon’t,” Harry whines. “It’s going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

 


	2. Press Tour

Harry wakes to the annoying sound of his phone alarm going off from somewhere in his pile of blankets and pillows. He tiredly rips his bed apart, finally ending up on his feet and hearing the bang as his phone hits the nearby wall when he lifts up one of the blankets.

“Found it,” he murmurs to himself, instantly dropping both the blanket and his body back down to the mattress. It’s one of those days he’s thankful that he couldn’t afford a bed frame because he’s able to stretch an arm off the mattress and retrieve his phone from beneath the piles of magazines and other things that he keeps scattered around the floor.

Harry squints at his phone in the darkness, still too early for the sun to illuminate his room and nearly fumbles it when he sees he’s got 17 missed calls and 23 text messages. Between Louis and Niall, Harry has a horrifying thought that he’s slept in somehow.

He jumps up, taking half his bed with him as he opens his bedroom door and calls Niall back at the same time.

“Harold!” Niall’s voice chirps down the line, and Harry winces because it’s not even 6 in the morning and it’s far too early to sound that awake. “How are things?”

“Am I late? Did I set my alarm for the wrong time?” Harry asks, coughing a little to try and clear the sleep from his throat.

Niall laughs and it sounds like it echoes in Harry’s ear. “Not late at all. We’re on our way to sound check and I was wondering if you wanted a ride?”

Harry glances down at his body, naked except for the briefs he put on before bed. “Uh, how much time do I have?”

“20 minutes enough?” Niall asks.

“That’s fine. I can do my hair on the way,” Harry says. “Got to get off the phone though. I need a shower.”

Niall mumbles something that Harry doesn’t catch. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Niall says, but there’s a faux innocence to it that has Harry’s heart beating a little faster. Even more so when he hears Louis in the background trying to shout something. “Christ, Lou, shut the fuck up. We’ll see you in 20, Harold.”

“Harold?” Harry grins a little, leaning over the bathtub to get the shower running. “Didn’t realize we had nicknames for each other now.”

“You can call me whatever you like,” Niall says.

Harry counts to three in his head before he replies. “I’ll call you Niall, how about that?”

Niall hums. “Plain, ordinary and boring. Calling me by my birth name. How disappointing.”

“Gonna get in the shower now,” Harry says, holding the phone with his shoulder as he turns the shower head towards the wall and pulls the curtain across. “See you in a bit.”

“Enjoy your shower!” Louis shouts from the background, sounding far more suggestive than he should over the fact that Harry’s having a shower at 6 in the bleeding morning.

Harry clicks off, climbing into the shower and adjusting the temperature before he slips beneath the stream of water. He’s always been one for a quick shower, washing his hair quickly before rubbing the conditioner in. While it soaks, he washes his body, hands sliding down his chest and over his stomach. He rubs his thumbs into his thighs, fingers twisting to curl around his half hard cock. It’s been ages since he got off properly, too busy with editing and Niall and numerous other things. He gives himself a couple of strokes, hips moving forward into the circle of his fist. Niall’s at the forefront of his mind though, his long fingers and the way he smelled and the way his cheeks flushed whenever Harry said something nice. The thought of Niall on his knees, lips wrapped around his cock has him shuddering. Harry bites at his bottom lip, stills his hand and exhales repeatedly, willing his erection away. Not mixing his personal life with his business life includes not wanking off to his boss, no matter how fit his boss may be.

While he rinses his hair out, he imagines as many unsexy things as possible. When it doesn’t work and images of Niall’s perfectly plump pink lips keep crossing his mind, he bites his tongue and turns the shower head to freezing. It’s absolute agony, but it does the job.

Harry’s just hopping around the room trying to pull on his jeans when his phone buzzes on his dresser. “Hi, yeah. I’ll be down in a moment. Don’t beep, please.”

“Don’t forget your camera,” Niall teases.

Harry hangs up, finally succeeding in getting both legs through his jeans and sucking in a breath to get them to zip up. He looks at his hair hopelessly in the mirror, grabbing his hair spray from the bathroom before getting his bag from the counter and exiting the flat as quietly as he can.

There’s a black navigator idling in front of his building, and Harry steels himself as he hoists his bag further up his shoulder. It’s Louis who pushes open the back door, looking far too awake for this early in the morning.

The second Harry’s tucked inside, the navigator lurches forward.

“Good to see you,” Niall says, sitting across from him. “Missed having you around, you know.”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “Only been a week, Nialler.”

“Nialler, huh?” Niall says with a smile. “That’s what my mates call me.”

Harry digs through his bag and pulls out the iPhone Liam had sent to by courier a couple days prior. It had all of Niall’s social media accounts linked including his Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.

“Focus mostly on Instagram and Twitter,” Louis says now, watching closely as Harry boots up the phone. “Those platforms are where most of Niall’s fandom interact with him.”

“Makes sense,” Harry says, putting the phone down beside him to do something with his hair. “I look like baby Tarzan when I don’t do my hair. Look at this! Ridiculous.”

Niall laughs, his eyes crinkling in a way that makes Harry return the smile. “Look alright to me mate. Always do.”

Harry sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, attempts to style his hair into a quiff without suffocating Louis and Niall in the process. His cheeks turn pink despite his valiant attempt and he takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” he says quietly, glancing up at Niall from beneath his lashes. “For saying that.”

“Don’t thank me for speaking the truth,” Niall says, running his own hand through his hair. He looks good, pink shirt underneath a white jean jacket paired with light blue skinny jeans and some black boots.

The image of Niall on his knees in front of Harry flashes through his mind again, the same one from when he was in the shower and he sucks in a shocked breath. He wills it away by picking up the iPhone and switching it to camera mode, holding it up to get a quick shot of Niall while he’s in conversation with Louis.

Harry edits the picture with one of the million editing apps Liam had got downloaded onto the phone, captions it with ‘ _Press Tour Day 1: Niall’s coming for you @grahnort!_ ’ and then hits upload.

Niall glances down at his phone when the notifications start to come through. “I didn’t even know you took a picture,” he grumbles, silencing his phone.

“You’re not the only one who’s an artist, Mr. Horan,” Harry says smiling. “Surprised you keep your notifications on though. Must get loads of them.”

Niall shrugs. “On most platforms it’s only if I’m either in a mutual follow with them, or if they’re verified. I’ve gotten loads more this past week, and probably will the next bit during the tours. It’ll settle down when I’m writing for the next album.”

“Already thinking about the next album?” Harry presses.

Louis’s gaze doesn’t leave his phone when he says, “Almost sound like a reporter, dear Harold. Suppose it’s a good thing we pushed for that NDA, hm?”

Niall rolls his eyes and leans forward. “I’ve written a bit. I write based on personal experiences you know? If something inspires me, there’s nothing stoppin’ me from putting down a few words.”

Harry’s heart skips a beat. “Have you got that, then? Inspiration I mean?”

The air is tense, just like it was when Niall saw the shot Harry took for his album cover. Niall’s staring at him with those beautiful blue eyes and all Harry would have to do is lean forward a bit more and then–

“We’re here,” Louis announces as the car lurches to a stop. “Basil, what’s it look like?”

The man driving turns his head. “Not too bad. They’ve got security and barricades up. Niall could stop for a few pictures and autographs if he wanted. Safely.”

Harry gets it, then. Basil must be Niall’s security guard. He clears his throat. “Might be good for some pictures,” he says, trying to go for subtle.

“Why are you all acting like you need to convince me?” Niall says with a frown. “I always stop when you lot let me.”

Louis and Basil sigh loudly. “It’s for your—“

“Safety, yes I know,” Niall interrupts. “So one of the girls doesn’t try to take a piece of my body home with her. I’m aware.”

Harry smiles, adjusts his hair when Basil gets out of the car and he can hear the shrieks of Niall’s fans. “It’s only just dawned on me that they’ve probably call the paparazzi for this appearance, haven’t they? Oh my god.”

“Your hair looks fine,” Niall says, doing up the button on his blazer. “Just make sure you get my good side when you’re taking the pictures, yeah?”

“You don’t have a bad side, Niall,” Harry says, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He feels the phantom ache in his fingertips for his camera suddenly, and his hands clench around nothing but the pre-loaded iPhone in his hands.

Niall’s glancing back at him with a small smile. “Thought you said if I was fishing for compliments I could get them from my fans?”

Basil pulls the back door open then, and nods forward. Harry smiles, shoves at Niall's back. “Well, go on then, rockstar."

The screams are ear piercingly loud and Harry winces as the sound reverberates in his head. Louis’s hand is a solid weight on his shoulder, but he lets go when Niall reaches the first fan.

“Is it always this loud?” Harry asks, squinting against the sunlight. He left his sunglasses at home, bugger. “Do they ever stop?”

“Not really,” Louis says. “If Niall asked, they might. But he won’t. He likes it too much.”

Indeed he does as Harry finds out when they continue on with the tour. Niall stops at every location, even when it’s raining and Harry mumbles and grumbles about not being able to take pictures.

“Not every move I make needs to be documented, young Harry,” Niall says one evening, once they’ve left Chatty Man.

“You’re only a year older than me,” Harry says, affronted. “Don’t call me that.”

“A year’s a year,” Niall says with a small smile.

“Pick up the Chatty Man boxers so I can take a picture,” Harry says, picking up the phone.

Niall sits up and rifles through the bag of stuff he got from Alan Carr. “Want me to put them on?” he says, eyebrows waggling.

“By all means,” Harry says, flipping the camera to record. He knows Niall won’t actually strip in the back of a car, but it’s funny to imagine. He watches as Niall shoves his legs into the underwear and stands up as best he can to do a twirl. “Lovely.”

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he flips into Instagram, captions the video “ _Niall couldn’t wait to get into his new pants. Thanks for having him, @chattygram!_ ” and sends it off.

“So,” Harry says, leaning forwards as rain begins to pelt at the windows of the car. “X Factor tomorrow. You must be excited. Back to where it all began.”

“Shitting meself actually,” Niall says, and brings a hand up to chew at his nails. Harry slaps it away. “Always nervous going there to perform. Keep waiting for the judges to say somethin’ about my performance. Wait for Dermot to read off my number so people can call in and vote. I get nervous during live shows, but the X Factor is the worst.”

Harry nods as Niall speaks. “Are you performing anything new?”

“Not really new, no. I’m playing a remixed version of a song from the last album. One Thing,” Niall says, and Harry has to stop his hand again. “Guitars and stuff instead of a backing track. I’m excited but nervous you know? It’s like what the song would have been if it had been on this album.”

Harry hums the intro, and Niall’s eyes widen. “I heard it on the radio I think,” he admits. “Was one of your better singles, like chart-wise?”

“Yeah, went straight to number one here and in Ireland,” Niall says, and he’s preening a little. “Broke the top 10 in the US. Kinda what made me believe I might make it overseas, you know?”

“You have done, though,” Harry says, glancing up when Basil pulls into his apartment complex. “Tours almost sold out innit?”

“Not a fan of almost,” Niall says, grabbing Harry’s bag and handing it to him. “Sold out would be ideal.”

“You’ve got two weeks between now and the tour starting,” Harry says, smiling at Basil when he opens the door. “Plenty of time.”

Niall laughs and shoves at Harry’s arm. “Always the optimist, hm?”

“One of us has got to be,” Harry says.

Basil clears his throat and Harry jumps. He looks back at Niall, who is still smiling at him and debates inviting him inside. Then he thinks of how there’s only one possible way the night could end, and how Niall has a performance to put on tomorrow and he knows that it’s a bad idea all around.

“Have a good night, Niall,” Harry says instead, nodding to Basil as he exits the car. “You too, Basil.”

Basil nods, closing the car door. “You as well. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

Harry doesn’t sleep peacefully like he usually does. Every time he closes his eyes its flashes of skin on skin, warm lips on his, calloused hands slipping across his chest and down, down, down until he startles himself awake. If it wasn’t for the fading memory of blonde hair and blue eyes, it would be a lot easier for Harry to look Niall in the eyes when he arrives to the apartment the next day.

The usual drill is that Niall calls him when he arrives, and Harry comes out to meet the car. Mainly because his fans haven’t yet found out where Harry lives and they’d both like to keep it that way. Niall loves his fans, truly, but sometimes they can step over the line when it comes to his personal life. Harry’s place of residence has been kept a secret for just over two months, and Niall seems to think that’s pretty remarkable.

Which is why when Harry’s doorbell rings around the time Niall said he’d be there, Harry’s left staring at the door in confusion. He takes his phone from the kitchen table and flicks it open to no missed calls or texts.

“Who’s at the door?” Nick shouts from the bathroom, and it snaps Harry out of his trance. “You gonna get that Harold?”

“Yeah, got it,” Harry mumbles, finally remembering to put one foot in front of the other. He checks the peephole and sure enough Niall’s standing outside, hands in his pockets with his head looking up and down the aisle. Harry pulls open the door and says, “Has my phone been disconnected?”

Niall smiles sheepishly. “Uh, no. Just thought I’d actually come in get you. Instead of callin’ on ya.”

Harry steps back so Niall can come in, takes a brief glance down the hallway before pulling his head back in and closing the door.

“Haz, who was it?” Nick shouts, rounding the corner with a toothbrush in his mouth. “Oh.”

“Grimmy, this is Niall,” Harry says, enjoying how red in the face Nick gets. “Niall, this is Nick. Or Grimmy. He goes by either.”

Niall waves a hand. “Yeah, I’ve done an interview or two at his station. Listen to the morning show when I can get up that early. Rather, when I have no choice but to be up at that early.”

Nick mumbles something around his toothbrush and then disappears. Harry starts laughing before he can stop himself. “Jesus, I’m never gonna hear the end of that one.”

“Yeah,” Niall laughs, but it’s kind of awkward. “I uh, didn’t know you were seeing someone,” he gestures lamely to where Nick’s just disappeared. “Wouldn’t have made you stay out so late if I’d known you had someone back here waiting for you.”

It takes Harry a second but when he gets it, he bowls over in laughter. He presses a hand against the wall to support himself, and he’s got tears in his eyes when he stands up straight. “Me and Grimmy? You think I’m seeing Grimmy? Oh my god, Niall.”

“What, would seeing me be such a terrible fate?” Nick asks from where he’s reappeared, frowning over at Harry.

Harry catches his breath, presses a hand to his chest. “It’s just... Grimmy. He’s like, my best mate. We live together because I interned at the radio station after graduation when I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to get into photography or radio, and Nick offered me a place to stay until I got on my feet. I just never left.”

Niall looks a lot less stressed than he did a few minutes ago. “Oh, right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.”

“S’okay, mate,” Nick says, retrieving his cup of coffee from the kitchen island. “Even his parents thought we were a thing at first. Had to convince them that I wasn’t defiling their son. Not much left to be defiled when we met though, was there?”

“Shut up, Grimmy,” Harry says, feeling the way his cheeks flush. “Ought to be on our way, right Niall?”

Niall nods. “Yeah, it’s the big one today. Best be going. Need time to soundcheck and all that.”

The walk to the car is tense, and Harry can’t tell if it’s because of the conversation that just happened or if Niall’s on edge because he left Basil in the car while he came to retrieve Harry. Niall’s kind enough to open the door and let Harry in first, climbing in behind him and then shutting it.

“You’re really brickin’ it, aren’t you?” Harry asks, shouldering off his bag and pulling out the phone. “You’re gonna do great. They’ll love the song.”

Niall leans back in his seat and closes his eyes. “I fuckin’ hope so. If they hate the sound then they’ll hate the new album. I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Harry reaches forward to put a comforting hand on top of Niall’s knee. “You could never disappoint anyone. I mean, like, of course there will be people who might not like the change but that’s to be expected. We, as humans, tend to resent any sort of change because we prefer to stick with what we know. At least that’s the case for me, anyway. Nick’s wanted to move for ages but I keep saying no for a multitude of different reasons. S’just, change can be hard. That’s all I’m saying.”

Niall takes out his phone, types something quick and then puts it away. Harry’s phone buzzes where it’s lying beside him on the seat. Niall looks at him with a toothy smile. “You’ve got my notifications on, then?”

“Am I not supposed to?” Harry questions, sliding open his phone to see the tweet.

“ **@NiallOfficial** : _Super excited t be back at @TheXFactorUK ! Got something new for you all 2nite. @Harry_Styles says you’ll like it, so here goes !_ ”

With a start Harry realizes Niall’s mentioned him in a tweet, the first one since they’ve started working together. Immediately there’s an influx of followers and mentions, and Harry looks up at Niall in shock. “Could have warned me.”

“More fun this way,” Niall says with a grin. “I like it when things are a surprise.”

Harry rolls his eyes, sits back in his seat to scroll through his mentions.

 **@niallismydad** : _@Harry_Styles are you niall’s new boyfriend?_

 **@narryisreal** : _@Harry_Styles you and @NiallOfficial are my new OTP‼_

 **@letmekissu** : _@Harry_Styles aren’t you just the photographer?_

“Jesus,” Harry says on an exhale. “They are a bit intense, aren’t they?”

Niall laughs, the first time since he came to pick Harry up from the apartment. “Understatement of the year. But they got me where I am today, buy me albums, come to see me in arenas. It’s a bit mad, what they’ve done for me in three years. I gotta respect how they’ve changed my life.”

Harry’s heart bursts with that, and he suddenly gets why Niall stops for fans every chance he gets. “You feel like you owe them,” he says, carefully slides the phone to video and raising it where Niall can’t see it without looking down.

“Course I owe them,” Niall says. “Wouldn’t have all of this without them, you know? I wouldn’t be here without my fans. They’ve done everything for me. If I can brighten their day even a little bit by taking a selfie with them, or signing a picture, it’s the least I can do, you know?”

Harry stops recording, looks over at Niall with a fond smile. “You’re a really good person, Niall,” he says quietly, typing out the caption. It’s too long to post on Instagram, so Harry posts it to his own personal Twitter instead. He captions it, “ _If you ever doubted that @NiallOfficial is grateful for all you’ve done for him, you can stop doubting now._ ” and then hits tweet. It gets 20 thousand retweets in ten minutes.

The rest of the drive is quiet, and even when they get to the location and Niall’s on stage waiting to soundcheck, Harry can tell he’s still anxious.

“You’re gonna be ace,” Harry says, pulling out the phone as Niall begins to play. It does sound similar, like Harry has heard it when driving with Nick or listening to the pop radio on his phone.

He takes a picture when Niall leans against the bass player, both of them rocking out to the chorus. He captions it with “ _You lot are gonna love this new take on an old classic..#YouveGotThat…_ ” and hits upload.

Niall comes off stage sweaty and pumped, catches the water bottle Harry tosses at him so he can have a drink. “Was it okay? I know you didn’t listen to my older stuff but...”

“Was fuckin’ sick, Nialler, just like I told you,” Harry says proudly. “You’ll have the girls and their fathers dancing. I know, I’ve got an eye for dads.”

Niall laughs, nearly chokes on the water he’s trying to consume. “Fuckin’ hell, Harry. Gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Try to hold off until after the tour you’ve got starting in two weeks,” Harry says, eyes glinting. “Think Louis might kill me himself if something happened to you before then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Niall says. “Let’s watch the show until we’re on. I mean me, until I’m on. You get to sit and look pretty.”

Harry flips his hair and purses his lips. “I always look pretty.”

“Full of yourself, aren’t yeah? Worse than Zayn,” Niall says, and retreats to his dressing room.

Harry hasn’t met Zayn yet, but he also hasn’t seen much of Liam and apparently the two are attached at the hip. He thinks Louis mentioned something about an upcoming wedding, but he could be wrong.

He makes his way to side stage when it’s Niall turn to go on. The energy is electric, the crowd is chanting Niall’s name, clapping in time with the syllables. Harry watches, his heart pounding as Niall strums the intro and the blue and green lights flicker on to illuminate him as he begins to sing his first new song in his new genre.

Harry jumps and dances his way throughout the entire thing, can sing the chorus by the second time around. Niall catches his eyes from the stage, points at him and smiles and instantly Harry can feel more than a dozen smartphones have swiveled his way. Harry flips Niall off, dances right through to the end until the lights go down and everyone in the audience screams and cheers, up on their feet for Niall’s performance.

When the lights come back on Niall’s got the biggest smile on his face that Harry’s ever seen. Dermot pulls him in for a side hug, waits for the audience to calm down before he starts asking questions.

“Mr. Niall Horan,” Dermot starts. “It’s awesome to see you back on this stage, and with a brand new sound too!”

Niall wipes at his forehead with his sleeve. “Yeah! It’s great to be back, I mean you can ask Harry, who’s down there,” he points to Harry side stage and Harry turns his back on the cameras turning his way. He’s not one to be on film, preferring to be the one capturing instead. “Bit shy, ain’t he? Anyway, you can ask him. Coming back to X Factor is great, and I love this stage, but it’s like I’m waiting to be marked on my vocals again. Waiting for you to read off the number to vote for me. I love coming back, but it’s incredibly anxiety inducing.”

“You did a remake of a song that went to number one on your last album,” Dermot says. “Is that the kind of sound we can look forward to on your album dropping on Sunday?”

Niall nods, puts down the water bottle someone handed to him while Dermot was speaking. “Yeah, I mean. I had a lot more say in the sound on this album, and while there are some pop sounding songs, a good majority are rock based with lots of guitars. I also wrote a lot of this album, 15 out of 18 songs have my name on them, so it’s really great to say that this is my album. I’m excited for the fans to hear it.”

Dermot slings an arm around Niall’s shoulder and pulls him in. “Niall Horan’s new album Revelations hits iTunes on Sunday. Next up, we’ve got our two finalists giving their last performances before the winner is announced. Stay tuned!”

The crew behind Niall shifts into gear, working to get his set out of the way so the finalists can finish competing. Niall shakes the hands of everyone nearby, slipping his guitar from around his neck and placing it on a stand before it gets rolled away.

Harry meets Niall backstage, throws his arms around Niall’s neck and presses a wet kiss to his cheek. “That was bloody brilliant,” he says, a little breathless from dancing and he’s probably a bit sweaty as well but he doesn’t care. “Honestly, Niall. Amazing.”

Niall’s kissing him a second later, and Harry’s stock still until Niall pulls back, cheeks a hectic shade of red and chest moving up and down as he breathes. “Fuck, I’m sorry. God. I’ll just—“

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Harry says, even though there’s a heat building in his stomach from the taste of Niall’s lips. “Adrenaline, happens to the best of us. No need to freak out.”

Niall lets out a shaky laugh, runs a hand through his sweaty hair and takes a breath. “Thanks for being so confident about my music,” he says, and Harry notices they’re being gently herded in the direction of Niall’s dressing room. “It’s nice. I appreciate it. You have more faith in my music than Liam and Lou, I reckon.”

“It’s good, Niall. I’m tellin’ you, the fans are gonna love it,” Harry says, leaning against the entrance of the dressing room. “I best head out, and you better hurry up. I imagine the crew will want to go out tonight. Celebrate the end of the press tour, the positive reaction to your new sound, all that fun stuff.”

“You won’t come?” Niall asks, looking hopeful even as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side.

Harry looks determinedly at the floor. “Can’t unfortunately. Got loads of stuff to do back home. It’s my chore week and seeing as I’m flying out with you in a couple weeks, I best do my part. But I’ll see you soon, yeah? Enjoy the break before the tour. Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

“Hey, Harry! Wait,” Niall says, and Harry stops. “I want you to have this.”

He hands Harry what looks like a blank CD except it's titled “NIALL REVELATIONS- FINAL COPY” and Harry takes it from him slowly. “Is this…”

“My album, yeah. Out in four days, so far hasn’t leaked. Which is miraculous considering my last two did. I wanted you to hear it first, like next to my parents of course, and the label. Wanted your thoughts before the tour started.”

Harry runs a hand over the cd case, looks at Niall with wide eyes. “Yeah, of course. Won’t listen to it without headphones. Promise.”

“I trust you,” Niall says, and that adds to the warmth circulating in Harry’s belly in an entirely different way. “Just. Let me know what you think, yeah?”

“I will, Niall. Thank you,” Harry says, a little breathless. “This means a lot to me.”

Niall nods, tucks his hands into the back of his jean pockets. “See you in a couple weeks, Harold.”

“Enjoy your time off, Nialler,” Harry says, giving a small wave before heading out.

Harry tucks the cd in his bag, for the first time in his life zipping it up and snapping it shut. It feels heavier all of a sudden, like he’s carrying something fragile and it could break at any point.

It’s with a dawning realization as he walks that Harry realizes just how far he’s let himself go in this tangled web, and how much more difficult it’s going to be to get himself out when it all comes to a close.

 


	3. Interlude

Early Sunday morning dawns and Harry wakes up to the sound of the buzzer for the front door echoing through the flat. He groans, yanks a pillow over his head and prays that whoever hit the wrong code goes away.

It grows more insistent the longer Harry keeps his head hidden, and eventually Harry caves. He tucks his feet into the slippers he keeps beside his bed and throws on the robe hanging from his door.

The buzzing doesn’t subside the walk from his room to the door panel, and he angrily pushes the button. “Who is it?” he snaps, releasing the button and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Harold?” Niall’s voice comes down the line and Harry freezes, instantly pushing the button to let Niall in repeatedly.

He looks down at himself, realizing that he’s clad in slippers and a bloody robe. He apparently debates for too long because the next second there’s a knock at the apartment door and Harry has no choice but to open it and pull Niall inside.

“Niall,” Harry says, tightening his robe around his body. “Was there a memo that went out or something? Didn’t realize there was press today.”

Niall folds his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “No, actually. I just. I found out what number the album went to, and I wanted to be the first to let you know instead of the telly or radio.”

Harry smiles then, feels the warmth he’s come to associate with Niall spread to the tips of his fingers. “So? Out with it! What’d it peak at?”

Niall looks sad and a little disappointed, head looking down at the terrible carpeting of Harry’s floor. “Well like. I wasn’t expecting much, you know?”

“Niall,” Harry prods, reaching a hand out to rest on Niall’s shoulder. “Whatever it peaked at, its great right? North America is always hard to crack, especially the U.S. You’ve got all these other artists you’re competing with and—“

“It went to number one, Harry,” Niall bursts suddenly, grin on his face so big that his eyes crinkle at the corners. “My album went to bloody number one in America.”

“Holy shit!” Harry’s closing the distance between them without thinking, throws his arms around Niall’s neck to pull him into a hug.

Niall’s arms circle around Harry’s waist, lifting him up and spinning him around before placing him back onto the ground. “Fuckin’ amazing. Never thought it would, you know? My words, my songs, my sound was enough for the album to go to number one. Can you believe it?”

Harry bites at his bottom lip, sucking up his nerve to lean forward and press a wet kiss to Niall’s cheek before he does anything more reckless. Niall makes a disgusted face, reaching up to wipe the spit from his face.

“Congrats, Niall,” Harry says, tightening the strings of his robe. He watches Niall follow the movement, watches him lick his lips and let his eyes drop down to Harry’s bare legs before he’s able to pull his gaze back up. Harry gives him a knowing smile. “That’s huge. I’m so proud of you. Bet the tour will sell out for sure now.”

Niall nods. “Almost there, I think,” he says, fidgeting. “Last I talked to Liam it was really close.”

“Usually I’d say we should go out to celebrate but it’s bloody 9 in the morning,” Harry says. “It’s my day off and I’d quite like to go back to bed.”

Harry waits for it, for Niall to ask something along the lines of if Harry would like some company. He doesn’t speak though, just rubs the back of his neck. “Niall, is everything okay?”

Niall doesn’t look at him. “Okay, so you know we talked about how lucky we were that the fans hadn’t found out your address and the media was being nice to my new photographer and the like?”

Harry nods, feels something like panic begin to bubble up his throat. “Yes.”

“Well,” Niall coughs. “The fans may have found out your address,” he says, and Harry’s heart stops. “The Sun reported this morning that you’re my new boyfriend.”

Harry takes a step back, thankful suddenly that the couch is so close to the front door. “They what? But, how?”

Niall fidgets, hand coming up to bite at his nails like he does when he’s anxious. “I don’t know,” he says, and Harry can tell he’s being honest. “Liam and Louis are on it though. I mean, to shut down the rumors. They’ve got a statement ready and everything. It’s because the album came out, you know? They’re looking for something to add fuel to the fire. It happens every time.”

“Are there reporters outside my door, Niall?” Harry asks, voice small. “Fans?”

Niall swallows. “There was a news crew across the street when I pulled in. I came in the back way, though, so I don’t think they saw me. There’s a few girls outside your building, but I can’t be sure if they’re fans or if they’re just hanging out because they live here.”

“Fuck,” Harry curses. “Give me a minute, okay? I need to get dressed.”

Harry goes back to his room, fumbling with the handle to get it closed. He sits down on the edge of his bed, mind racing and heart tightening. His phone vibrates on the side table, and he reaches over to unplug it and swipes it open to a message from Liam.

 **Liam Payne** : _We’re taking care of it, Harry. We’ve just released a statement saying that your relationship is purely professional, and for the press to leave you be while you prepare to join Niall on tour with the rest of the crew._

Harry drops back onto his bed, sending off a quick thank you before tossing his phone somewhere in the covers. He manages to take a few deep breaths to calm his the beating of his heart, and then pulls on some jeans and a white tee shirt.

Niall’s waiting for him by the door when he comes out, brow creased and still biting at his nails. “Harry! Liam released the statement, I haven’t been outside but—“

“Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Harry says, interrupting. “Part of the package, innit? Working for a pop star who has never said one way or the other if he’s straight or gay or somewhere in between. It’s fine. If it gets bad enough, I’ll ask Louis for security detail,” he says, running a hand through his hair. Security detail for the photographer, that’s something Harry never thought he’d need.

Niall swallows, takes a step back from where Harry’s standing. “I don’t like talking about my love life, Harry,” he says, slowly like he’s trying not to scare Harry away. “I don’t confirm or deny anything because I don’t like to poke the bear or whatever it is the American’s say. It’s best to let them do what they please, you know? Otherwise things get a little intense.”

“I know, Niall. I know, I’m sorry,” Harry rushes to say. “S’just like. Bloody media outside my house. I’m meant to be the photographer, not the subject.”

“I’m really sorry, Haz,” Niall says, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can send out a tweet asking the fans to like, not come round. Give you some privacy. I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got a security system. Comes in handy.”

Harry laughs, has to at the absurdity of it all. “My mum’s going to call me about this,” he realizes with horror. “I’m in the gossip mags for dating a pop star. Oh my god, she’s going to have a fit.”

“There’s worse people you could be rumored to be dating though, I think,” Niall says, joining Harry where he’s leaning against the back of the couch.

Harry nudges Niall with his arm, before leaning to rest his head on Niall’s shoulder. “Fishing for compliments again, Mr. Horan?”

“Course not,” Niall says, moving his hand to squeeze Harry’s thigh in what Harry thinks must be a reassuring way. “Got me fans for that, don’t I?”


	4. North American Tour

Harry checks and rechecks his bag, then checks it again while he’s stuck at the airport waiting for Niall’s private jet to be ready for boarding.

“How many more times are you going to look through that bag?” Niall asks. He’s sprawled out on a bench, shirt thrown over his eyes in attempt to get more sleep. Harry digging through his bag repeatedly probably isn’t helping. “It’s like, the third time since we got here.”

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, zipping up the bag and sliding away it away from his prying hands. “Just nervous. What if I’ve forgotten something, you know? Not like I’m up the street and can take the tube home to get it.”

Niall laughs, swings his legs round so the shirt that was covering his eyes falls into his lap as he sits up. “When we get to America, if it turns out you’ve let a pair of shoes at home, let me know and I can send someone to pick up a new pair. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Harold. Relax. We’re playing MSG tomorrow.”

Harry whistles, leaning back on his hands. “Opening the tour at MSG. 18 thousand people, innit?”

Niall’s cheeks turn a little pink, and Harry can tell he’s preening. “Fuckin’ MSG. Can you bloody believe it?”

“Proud of you,” Harry says with a grin. “But I’ll never let you buy me clothes so you can forget that.”

Niall frowns. “S’not like I haven’t got the money.”

“Yeah, and thanks to you Liam and Louis are paying me handsomely to tour North America so I’m not really hurting at the moment,” Harry says. “Still like to be prepared. Would rather not have to go off to the shops first thing when we get there, you know?”

Liam appears in the doorway, looking rather frazzled. “Ready to go, lads? They’re finally ready for us,” he says, straightening out the suit he’s wearing. “Should have been ready when we got there. Bloody ridiculous.”

Niall grabs his backpack, slings it over his shoulder. “Relax, Payno, we’ve got plenty of time.”

Harry lays on his stomach, switches the iPhone on to Instagram to snap a picture as Niall and Liam shake hands. “ _First up: MSG. New York, are you ready?_ ” is what he captions it as, sends it off before switching the phone into airplane mode.

“Harold,” Liam says, and he looks tense as Harry collects his things. “Did you just send something out saying we’re on our way, when we are actually on our way?”

Harry freezes, still in the midst of shrugging his coat on. “Uh… Perhaps?”

Liam curses. “Future reference,” he says, forced smile on his face. “We don’t make that public until after we’ve landed and Niall is safely in his hotel room. There’ll be a mob waiting at the airport now.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “S’alright, Leeyum. Calm down. We’ll just get the cars to take us directly to the hotel from the plane. No airport involved. Everything’s fine.”

“Yes but—“

“Shh, c’mon now,” Niall says, turning his head back to wink at Harry as he loops an arm around Liam’s middle. “Let’s catch our flight to New York and think about the fact that I’m playing a sold out show at MSG tomorrow night.”

Harry exhales a shaky breath, swings his backpack and camera bag over his arms and follows them out.

The flight is smooth as can be, and Harry finds himself seated next to Niall for most of the trip. Liam and Louis are whispering together a few rows ahead, they’ve got their laptops out and Harry assumes they must be doing business things.

The landing is just as smooth, and it isn’t long before the pilot’s announcing that they’ve arrived to their destination.

“Ready to step on American soil, Haz?” Niall asks, eyes bright. “Haven’t been here in nearly a year. Since I did promo for the last album and got asked when I’d be coming to America for a tour.”

Harry grabs his bags, lifts the straps until he can throw them over his neck. “And now you’re here,” he says. “I’m so excited for you.”

“One thing about America though,” Niall says, gesturing for Harry to walk down the plane stairs with him. “Is that it's balls hot most of the time I’m here.”

It hits Harry as soon as his foot hits the first step, the overwhelming humidity combined with the sun bearing down on them. He sucks in a breath, but it feels tight, tainted somehow like the air is trying to prevent him from getting enough oxygen. “This’ll take some getting used to,” he admits, shouldering his bags.

Niall laughs from in front of him, walking quickly towards the black navigator waiting for them. Harry follows, breathing in relief once he slips inside and closes the door, the AC hitting him like a punch in the face. “Bloody hell, it’s hot out.”

The driver looks at him in the rear-view as he pulls away from the plane. “Mr. Styles, is it?”

Harry shares a glance with Niall. “Uh, you can call me Harry.”

“Well, Harry, welcome to New York!” The driver says, and almost immediately Taylor Swift’s song is playing in his head. “You’ll get used to the heat eventually,” he continues. “Not so bad once you get used to it.”

“Not so bad because I’ll die of heat stroke before that happens,” Harry mutters, and Niall cackles beside him.

They finally pull up to the hotel, and Harry’s surprised to see that there’s already a barricade with a few fans lined up behind them.

“But,” Harry asks, glancing back as they’re driven through to the private entrance at the back. “How’d they get your hotel info?”

Niall shrugs. “Beats me,” he says, pushing open his door. “But it happens in nearly every city. If not at first, then by the end. Sometimes they follow me car back from the venue. Once or twice Basil’s had to like, get a diversion.”

“A diversion?” Harry questions, pushing open his own door to join Niall on the other side. “What do you mean?”

“He had to get like, someone else to drive a car out from the venue, so the fans would follow that one instead of mine,” Niall explains, follows after the hotel staff who were waiting for them at the entrance.

Harry’s eyes widen. “And that was in the UK?”

“Yup,” Niall says, popping the P with his lips. “They aren’t violent or anything. Just excited. I can imagine America’s going to be a bit wilder, considering this is my first time touring here. When I did my press tour last year, the same thing happened as in the UK. Liam and Lou are never sure how my hotel info leaks for every city. Whether it’s because someone from my team is selling it, or the fans are callin’ hotels. We just don’t know.”

“Niall, I know you love your fans,” Harry pauses, waits for Liam to check them in to the hotel. He supposes that Liam and Louis’ car must not have been far behind. “But this is kind of terrifying.”

Niall shrugs, hooks his finger through the key card Liam hands him. “Can be, I suppose, if you’re not used to it. But they’re not causin’ any harm, you know? Just waiting out there hoping for a picture or an autograph. They’re harmless.”

Harry lets Liam push his key card into his hand, trailing after Niall as he heads towards the elevator. “They don’t ever try to come inside?”

“Nah,” Niall says. “Hotel security and Basil are on top of that. Got nothing to worry about, young Harold.”

Harry pouts. “I said to stop calling me that.”

Niall reaches over to rustle Harry’s hair. “A year’s a year,” he says, stepping off the elevator when the doors ding open. “Get settled, yeah? Sound check tomorrow morning and then I play a sold out show at Madison Square Garden. Can you fuckin’ believe my life?”

Harry grins after Niall, waits for him to slide his card into the door of his hotel room before he slips into his own. He stops dead once he’s inside, the door closing softly behind him. It’s not a hotel room, it’s a bloody suite. The bed is a king and there’s a pool table in the middle of the room. There’s a kitchen to his left and a bathroom with what he thinks is a Jacuzzi to his right. A quick tour of the place confirms Harry’s worst fear: his hotel room is bigger than his own bloody apartment.

A restless sleep is what Harry ends up with later in the evening, the bed too big and the sheets too crisp. He sends off a tweet on his personal twitter, “ _Strange city, even stranger bed. Can’t fall asleep because I’m too comfortable. #FirstWorldProblems._ ”

His phone buzzes a moment later, and he glances down at it with bleary eyes.

 **Niall** : _can’t sleep huh?_

 **Harry** : _not really. weird being here._

 **Niall** : _could come keep ya company !_

Harry drops the hand holding his phone into the fluffy comforter surrounding him. He could ask Niall over, could ask him to cuddle up against him so he can fall asleep in a bed that doesn’t seem as big when there’s someone else with him. Harry thinks about the long day they both have tomorrow, and wonders if they’d be able to be adults with self-control. He figures there’s no other way to find out except to go ahead and see.

 **Harry** : _i think I could go for some company_

He sends it off before he can think twice, counts to 60 twice in his head before there’s a soft knock on his door.

Harry throws off the comforter, slips his feet into his complimentary slippers and shuffles over to the door. He pulls it open, smiling when he sees Niall standing there in a white shirt with boxers on.

“Well,” Niall prompts. “Gonna invite me in?”

Harry leans against the door. “Thought I’d wait for someone to come and snap you in your underpants and post it to Twitter before I did.”

“Shove off,” Niall says, but he’s grinning as Harry moves back to let him inside.

Harry looks up and down the hallway before he closes the door, twisting over the lock. “What’re you doing awake then?” he asks, kicking off his slippers to climb back into bed.

“I’m playin’ MSG in less than 24 hours,” Niall deadpans. “Why the fuck do you think I’m awake?”

Harry pulls the comforter back up to his chest, watches as Niall climbs into the bed. “Valid point,” he says quietly, turning to face away from Niall. He feels Niall shift, the mattress tilting as he shuffles closer and then there’s the heat of him, pressed up against Harry’s back.

“Niall,” Harry breathes out, fingers tightening around the blanket in his hands. “What are you—“

“Not gonna try anything,” Niall says, and he’s so close Harry can feel his breath on the back of his neck. “Easier to sleep in a new place when you’ve got someone to cuddle, innit?”

Harry exhales slowly, presses back until he can feel Niall’s bottom half up against his arse and thighs. “Suppose so,” he admits, already feeling the strong desire to close his eyes. “Just cuddling.”

“Yeah,” Niall agrees, his nose nuzzling Harry’s neck. He slides a hand up Harry’s side, fingers curling in at his hip before moving to rest along his stomach. “Just cuddling.”

Harry swallows thickly, moves his hand until it’s resting against Niall’s. He waits, the air thick between them until Niall encloses his fingers with Harry’s. “Have a good sleep, Niall,” he whispers into the darkness of the room.

“You too, Harry,” Niall whispers back, and that’s the last thing Harry remembers before sleep overtakes him.

Morning comes far too early for his liking, Louis banging on the door to demand him awake.

“Is Niall in there? Jesus, Harry, didn’t even let him get his first show in!” Louis calls through the hotel room door.

With a start, Harry realizes Niall’s still curled around him, head resting on Harry’s chest with one of his legs thrown over Harry’s thighs.

“Niall,” he says whispering as loud as he can without Louis hearing him through the door. “Niall, you arse. Wake up.”

“No,” Niall says, curling his hand tighter around Harry’s waist. “S’not time yet.”

Harry wiggles out from Niall’s grasp, throwing off the covers and dropping to the floor as softly as he can when he manages to break free. He beats Niall with a pillow until he blinks his eyes open, arms reaching up to shield himself from the abuse. “Wake up,” Harry hisses again. “Louis’ outside the door and he thinks we bloody well slept together.”

“Well, we did sleep together,” Niall says, and it’s far too early for Niall to be a dick.

“We slept in the same bed,” Harry whispers back angrily. “We didn’t… You know.”

“Fuck?” Niall supplies, ever so helpfully. “Relax, I’ll just tell him I came over this morning because I wanted to go over the schedule with you.”

Harry nods, arms crossing over his chest when he realizes just how naked he is. “Well, okay then,” he says. “I’m just gonna…” he gestures towards the washroom and bolts, leaving Niall to deal with Louis.

He makes the choice to hop in the shower while he waits, turns the water to nearly boiling before he slips underneath the stream. He’s still half hard with morning wood, and when he reaches down to curl a hand around himself it’s the warmth of Niall’s body that’s stuck in his mind. He clenches his eyes shut as he begins to stroke, leaning his head against the cool tile wall as his toes curl. The same image that was seared into his brain weeks before, of Niall on his knees with his lips wrapped tight around Harry’s cock flashes through, and this time Harry lets it happen. He strokes himself faster, thumb rubbing over the head and in his mind it’s Niall’s tongue, wicked as it flicks against him before sucking him back down. He jerks himself faster, using his other hand to slip down between his cheeks to press a dry finger of his hole. He gasps, nearly loses his balance as he comes in thick spurts onto the floor, fresh waves of water washing it down the train as Harry shakes through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Harry comes out of the washroom, towel wrapped tight around his waist to find Niall sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You look different,” Niall says, tongue poking out of his mouth. “Relaxed.”

Harry tries but ultimately fails not to go pink with more than the fading heat of his shower. “Happens when you can have a relaxing shower without having to worry about getting out right away.”

Niall hums knowingly. “Reckon I’ll have to have one when I get back to my room. Louis said we have about 30 minutes before we have to leave for sound check. That okay?”

“S’fine,” Harry says, bending down to rummage through his bag. “Gives me time to get ready and have the camera set up and the like,” he pauses, looking up at Niall while he collects his jeans and a white t-shirt. “You doing alright?”

“Little nervous,” Niall admits, and Harry notices that he’s got pyjama pants on. Louis must have brought them over so he wouldn’t be seen coming out of Harry’s hotel room in just his pants. “Big show.”

“You’ve got it,” Harry reassures. “Better get back to your room if you want that shower, though,” he says. “Louis and Liam seemed adamant about keeping some sort of schedule for this tour.”

Niall rolls his eyes as he stands. “They’re always adamant about a schedule. It never fuckin’ sticks though,” he walks to the door, looking back at Harry with a small wave. “See you in a few.”

“Yeah,” Harry says distractedly, digging through his camera bag for his memory cards. He finds them, tucked safely in the third section. It’s then that he realizes he’s standing in his empty hotel room in just a towel, and turns back to the bathroom to get himself ready before he starts messing about with his camera.

By the time their car pulls up to the venue, there’s already a long line of fans waiting outside, and Harry reaches for the phone to snap a few pictures of Niall leaning against the window with the Madison Square Garden sign in the background. He captions it, “ _MSG, let’s have ya!_ ” and posts it to Twitter, Instagram and Facebook all at once.

Soundcheck has minor issues, like Niall’s head mic not being loud enough to hear over the combined guitars and drums. Niall plays the remixed version of One Thing, and then sings Stockholm Syndrome staring at Harry nearly the entire time. Harry’s favorite by far is Where Do Broken Hearts Go, tied only with Don’t Forget Where You Belong which is just Niall and his acoustic guitar, no backing band.

Niall and Harry are taken backstage as the fans are let in for the show. Harry follows Niall to his dressing room, closes the door behind him as he watches Niall pace.

“Hey,” Harry says, frowning when Niall ignores him and begins to chew on his fingers. “Niall, are you listening to me?”

Niall stops short, then, swallowing hard and dropping his hands from his mouth. “Sorry. Just—“

“Nervous, I know,” Harry finishes. “But you’re gonna do great, yeah? Now go have a shower, spray yourself with some cologne and do some meet and greets to make your fans smile. You’ve got this, Nialler. You’re gonna do fucking amazing.”

Niall visibly relaxes as Harry speaks, runs a hand through his sweaty fringe. “Thanks, Haz,” he says. “Sometimes you know just what to say.”

“I wasn’t hired for my pretty face,” Harry says, forcing a laugh out of Niall. “Now go be a rockstar, pop star.”

Harry doesn’t have much to do while Niall does meet and greets, so he moves about the arena, introducing himself to the crew and shaking hands with everyone. He likes to know who’s responsible for helping bring the whole thing together, most notably Niall’s biggest show in America so far.

He hears it when the opener takes the stage, the sound reverberating around backstage so loud that Harry can barely hear himself think. He finds himself back in Niall’s dressing room, eating the cubed fruit from the catering table. Niall comes through a bit later, grin on his face and dressed for the stage.

“What is with you and cubed fruit,” Niall asks, checking his hair in the full length mirror. “Everywhere we go, if there’s cubed fruit, you locate it and rob the plate.”

Harry frowns, shoving another piece of pineapple in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before he speaks. “It’s delicious. You should try some, instead of all those crisps you eat.”

“Would rather die, I think,” Niall says dramatically, grinning over at Harry. “Show time. You ready to be on stage in front of 18 thousand people?”

Harry’s heart skips a beat as he reaches for his camera, snapping a picture of Niall with his thumbs up. “Let’s do it.”

The walk to the stage is heart pounding, the crowd chanting Niall’s name over the sound of the opening video playing down the time until Niall’s revealed. Harry climbs into the lift with Niall, the one that will take them up and out to the stage when the screen gets pulled up.

“No backing out now,” Harry whispers, snapping a picture of Niall adjusting his guitar. “You’re gonna kill it.”

Niall nods, unable to speak because his mic is on and ready to go. The intro video comes to an end as the lift stops. The crowd’s screams are echoing in Harry’s ears as the screen moves up and Harry’s ducking to the side of the stage as the lights focus on Niall and he launches into his opening song, Alive.

Harry discovers it’s quite hard work, getting good pictures of Niall performing while trying to stay out of the crowd’s line of vision. Liam had told him not bother, but Harry figures these people paid quite a bit of money to see Niall as close as they could, he’s not about to ruin their experience by shouldering a huge camera in their way.

The Twitter questions are easier, mainly because Niall’s got a lounge chair on stage so that he can sit while he answers them. Harry’s just walking up stage when suddenly the bright lights that are usually all focused on Niall shift over to him. He glances up into the blinding light confused, but he hears Niall’s laughter and turns to look at him.

“There’s a question for you here, Harry,” he says through the speaker, and Harry’s face heats. “They want to know how you get a job being a photographer for the most famous UK artist on the planet.”

Harry shrugs, not moving from his place. Niall leans forward in his chair though, mic up to his mouth. “My best advice, if you’re looking to work an artist is to go to school, choose something industry related, get a degree or a diploma, work your arse off, and hope for the best,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “The jobs in this industry are mostly luck. You have to be the best of the best, and you have to earn it.”

“Jesus,” Harry whispers under his breath, watches as the lights go dark to mean the ending of the Twitter questions. Niall has two minutes to change into his next outfit, and Harry counts down in his head for the sound of Niall’s acoustic guitar ringing out through the arena as he sings the beginning of Fool’s Gold.

Harry gets a few amazing shots as the pyrotechnics come out for One Thing, the entire crowd singing along to the remixed version in a way that has Niall staring out at the arena with a look of wonder on his face. Harry makes sure to get that shot as well.

Niall puts his guitar on a stand, waves to everyone and says his thank you’s and goodbyes, blowing kisses out into the audience as the band plays on while he makes his exit. Harry ducks down off stage using the side stairs, walking around the long way to get back to Niall’s dressing room.

Harry’s just through the door when he’s wrapped in a huge sweaty hug courtesy of Niall himself. He manages to wiggle his camera out from between them, handing it off to Basil who’s watching them with a bemused smile.

“You were amazing, Ni,” Harry says, his nose brushing the side of Niall’s neck. “Just like I said you would be.”

“They knew all the words!” Niall crows. “They even jammed out to the remixes of One Thing and What Makes You Beautiful! Bloody hell, Harry. Best day of my entire life, I think.”

Harry squeezes Niall’s shoulders as he pulls back, the hook in his stomach begging him to lean back in and kiss Niall’s pink, pink mouth. “Reckon we should go out and celebrate?”

“Really?” Niall beams, bouncing on his toes. “Wanna go out for drinks?”

Harry nods, pushing Niall away when he tries to come in for another. “Of course I do,” he says. “But first, you need to go shower. You’re disgusting.”

“Cheers, Harry,” Niall says, but he bounds towards the shower, stripping off his clothes as he goes.

Harry changes into some new clothes himself, because despite his best efforts he ended up nearly as sweaty as Niall by chasing him around the stage. He’s just tugging a black shirt over his head when the door to his room swings open, revealing Niall and Basil before the door is closed behind them.

“I was thinking,” Niall starts, and he looks freshly showered and a bit more relaxed.

Harry hums, sticks his arms in the holes of the shirt before shoving his head through. “That explains the smoke,” he says with a grin.

“Fuck off,” Niall says, answering Harry’s smile with one of his own. “No, was just thinking like. What if we stayed in and had a few bottles ordered up to our rooms instead of going out? Don’t have to bother Basil here, and don’t gotta worry about fans trying to sneak into our VIP booth.”

Harry nods. “That actually sounds a lot less stressful than everything you just mentioned. Let me just pack my camera up and we’ll be good to go, yeah?”

Basil holds up Harry’s camera bag. “Already taken care of. We’re ready to go when you are.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Harry says, checking his pockets for his cellphone and wallet. “My room or yours?”

Niall shrugs, following Basil down through the hidden entrance and into their waiting car. “Doesn’t matter, does it? Can get room service either way.”

“Yours, then,” Harry decides, feeling that Niall’s room service bill would be much more forgivable than his own.

It seems the drive to the hotel is much shorter than the drive to the venue, and Harry finds he’s bursting with unforeseen energy when they pull into the back exit. “Did you want to stop for the fans out front?”

For once, Niall pauses. “Maybe tomorrow? Been a long day. Just wanna put my feet up and have a pint or two, ya know?”

“You don’t have to go out every time,” Harry reassures, walking beside Niall as they’re brought through the entrance. “You’ll get them tomorrow.”

He moves his hand to the small of Niall’s back as they walk towards the elevators, keeping it there as a solid form of support as they ascend.

“Thanks,” Niall says, turning to look at Harry with a small smile. “For always being so supportive of my decisions. It’s nice.”

Harry shrugs, feels the way his cheeks heat up and ducks his head. “What I’m here for.”

It feels different somehow, when Niall slides in his key-card in and pushes open the door. Harry follows him in, flips over the additional lock once the door clicks closed.

“Staying the night?” Niall asks, already pulling out two small bottles of vodka from the mini-fridge.

“If you don’t mind,” Harry says quietly, taking the open bottle and raising it up. “To a great first show.”

Niall nods, raises his, too. “To a great first show.”

They both tilt it back, sucking down the liquid and Harry winces as it burns his throat. He finishes it off and tosses the bottle into the nearest bin, licks his lips as the vodka sits heavy on his tongue.

“Time to call for bottle service,” Harry says a few minutes later, already feeling a bit lighter. He’s always been an easy drunk, lightweight and not drinking nearly as often as his friends.

Niall calls down and asks for three bottles to be sent up, and Harry falls back onto Niall’s bed sending a prayer to a god he doesn’t believe in that they don’t actually die of alcohol poisoning.

The bottles arrive pretty quickly, but not quick enough that Harry and Niall don’t make their way through the rest of the liquor in the mini-fridge.

“Did you get one of everything?” Harry asks, smiling despite himself.

Niall looks down at the bottles in his hand. “Wasn’t sure if you’d like vodka, rum, or tequila,” he says, grinning. “So I told them I wanted their best of each.”

Harry holds his hand out for one, closes his fingers around the neck of the bottle Niall places in his hand. “Jesus, Niall. This is a 400 dollar bottle of rum.”

“Let’s have that then,” Niall says, placing the other bottles on the dresser. “Shots or just pass the bottle back and forth?”

“Bottle,” Harry says immediately, knowing the mess that can be made when shots are being taken.

Niall hops onto the bed beside Harry, takes the bottle from him to twist off the cap and take the first pull from the bottle. He whistles once he’s swallowed, handing the bottle back over. “Pretty good.”

Harry takes the next pull, the liquid sliding down his throat and coating his stomach. It’s a nice taste to it, not nearly as bad as the burning vodka and he enjoys the easy back and forth of it, even as his head begins to swim.

“Hey, Haz?” Niall breaks the silence between them, and Harry lifts his head from where he’s laying down against the pillows. “Could I try somethin’?”

Harry sits up then, slowly so the world doesn’t disengage from the solidity he’s created for himself. “Course,” he says. “Anything you want,” he adds, finding that he means it.

Niall’s up on his knees the next minute, sliding across the comforter until he’s straddling Harry’s waist. Harry blinks up at him, the red lining his cheeks and the way his eyes seem unfocused. “Anything I want?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers, not wanting to break whatever this thing is that they’ve got building between them. Niall cups Harry’s face with his hands, thumbs brushing along the lines of Harry’s cheeks before he’s dipping down to press a kiss to Harry’s lips.

Harry gasps against Niall’s mouth, the fire that’s been steadily building in his stomach suddenly curling and twisting, making its way up his spine as Niall licks past his lips. Harry’s struggling to keep up with the way Niall’s tongue is moving against his, can barely get his hands on the hem of Niall’s shirt to lift it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor.

“You, too,” Niall breathes, sitting back on Harry’s legs so he can help tug Harry’s shirt off and throw it somewhere in the room. “God, you’re gorgeous. So bloody fit,” his hands are moving up and down Harry’s tattoos, thumbs lingering across his nipples in a way that has Harry arching his back to get closer to Niall’s hands.

“Kiss me,” Harry says on a breath, getting his hands in Niall’s hair and tugging him down between his legs. Niall kisses him hard, and Harry tips his head to the side as Niall starts pressing light kisses down his neck. “God, Niall.”

Niall hums his reply, too busy sucking the skin of Harry’s neck past his lips, leaving a mark that makes Harry very thankful for the fact that he’s not the one who’s famous. Niall’s hand slips down his chest, and Harry can feel his fingers dragging like they're leaving burning impressions in his skin before reaching the line of his jeans.

“Can I?” Niall asks, pulling back to admire his handiwork on Harry’s neck. “Want you so bad.”

It’s a cheesy porno line, but it has Harry lifting his hips to help Niall in taking off his jeans. He ends up taking Harry’s pants with them and Harry barely has time to adjust before the wet, hot suction of Niall’s mouth is surrounding his cock.

“Fuck!” Harry falls back against the pillows, fingers twisting into Niall’s hair as he sucks him off. He moans when Harry pulls, and that sends an entirely new sensation racing up Harry’s spine so he does it again, watches as Niall’s arm moves to undo his jeans and push them down so he can get a hand around himself.

“No,” Harry pulls at Niall’s hair again, keeps pulling until Niall pops off his cock with a lewd slurping noise. Niall peers at him, licks his plump, pink lips and it takes Harry a second to realize that his lips look like that because he was just sucking him off. “Just. Could you fuck me?”

Niall’s scrambling up a second later, getting his mouth back on Harry’s and sucking on his tongue and Harry’s cock twitches with the taste of himself that Niall’s giving him. “Yeah, course. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Harry whispers, leaning up to bite at Niall’s lips. “Fuck me, rockstar.”

Niall rolls his eyes but climbs off the bed, searches through his luggage until he comes back with a condom and a bottle of lube. “How do you want it?”

Harry thinks it over briefly. “Wanna ride you,” he says.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” Niall says, but he leans back against the headboard, stroking his cock while Harry climbs on top of him. “Want me to finger you?”

Harry shakes his head, reaching for the bottle. “S’alright. Give you a bit of a show, I think.”

Niall’s head drops back, makes a loud noise as it bangs against the wood. “Bloody hell, okay.”

Harry pours some of the liquid out onto his fingers, leans forward onto Niall’s chest with his other hand before reaching around to press at his hole. His breath hitches as he slips the first one inside, moving it in and out until he’s got a steady rhythm going and can slide the second one in next to it.

“God, Harry. Can I…?” Niall asks, reaching for the lube.

“Yeah, yes,” Harry says on a gasp, fingers moving faster. “C’mon, hurry.”

Niall reaches behind Harry, feels where his own fingers are disappearing inside his hole and pushes the tip of his own inside. “So hot, Harry. Sure you can fit my cock in there?”

Harry pushes back on all three fingers, head tipping back when Niall’s moves deeper inside. “Let’s find out,” he says, can feel the sweat beginning to drip down his back. “Fuck me, come on.”

Niall pulls his finger out, fishes through the sheet for the condom and rips it open with his teeth. Harry smirks at him but doesn’t say anything, waits for Niall to slide it down the length of his cock and slick himself up before he’s lining up and slowly sinking down.

“God,” Niall’s head slams back again, and Harry gnaws at his bottom lip as Niall sinks into him, inch by inch.

“Kiss me,” Harry says suddenly, once his arse is flat against Niall’s thighs. “Kiss me.”

Niall lifts his head and grabs Harry’s by the hair, pulls him in for a deep and dirty snog that has Harry shifting his hips back and forth, rotating until their kiss turns into desperate pants against each other’s mouths.

“Fuck me,” Harry says again, grinding back onto Niall’s cock to get him as deep as possible until he can feel the snub of it pressing against his prostate. “You feel so fucking good, holy shit.”

Niall’s hands find Harry’s hips, his fingers pressing in and guiding Harry up and down slow at first, and then faster until Niall’s meeting him thrust for thrust, feet planted on the mattress as he fucks up into Harry’s body.

“Close,” Harry realizes, reaching down to curl a hand around himself but Niall slaps it away to replace it with his own. “I’m gonna—“

“Yeah, come on my cock, do it,” Niall moans, holding Harry still while he thrusts hard and fast, hitting Harry’s prostate with every movement. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you open up for me, holy shit.”

Harry feels his orgasm build in his abdomen, the way the cord snaps at the base of his spine and then he’s coming over Niall’s fingers, so hard his whole body curves into it and some of his come hits his chin.

“So hot,” Niall says again, and when Harry looks down after opening his eyes it’s to discover that Niall’s got some of his come on his lip. He pushes it into Niall’s mouth with his thumb, and Niall locks his lips around it, sucking hard and moaning as he rabbits his hips once, twice, three times and comes into the tight press of the condom.

Harry collapses forward a second later, Niall’s hands sliding up his sweaty back to hold him close while he’s still twitching through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He falls to the side once he catches his breath, whines a little at the pull of Niall’s cock at his rim as he pulls out.

“Was that okay?” Niall says, once he’s disposed of the condom. “Was it alright?”

Harry laughs, brings his hand to his face to cover his eyes. “Came like a freight train, didn’t I?”

Niall cuddles in close, reaches for the box of tissues to do a shitty job of cleaning off Harry’s stomach and his hand. “Shower later?”

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, yeah?” Harry says softly, kissing the top of Niall’s forehead. He’s broken every single one of his rules regarding business and pleasure tonight, but as Niall nuzzles in closer and presses a kiss to the bottom of Harry’s chin, Harry can’t find a single reason to care.

“We’ll talk, I promise. Later, though,” Niall mumbles, and Harry can already tell that he’s drifting off to sleep.

Harry sighs and tugs Niall in as close as he can get. They can talk about it later, after all they’ve got an entire North American tour to figure things out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rock 'Remixes' of Niall's old songs can be found below!
> 
> [One Thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8GMJZVm-jeY)
> 
> [What Makes You Beautiful](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBgHH8FCl1o)


End file.
